


Why?

by TSihek



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, POV McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TSihek/pseuds/TSihek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy has to fulliff a last duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why?

Why? 

I'm not sure, if I can do this.  
But I have to do! I knew it. There is no way to avoid my duty as being the CMO of this ship.  
But it tores me apart.  
It shatters my world in fragments.  
I stand here in front of you.  
And I'm speechless about the cruelity of the universe.  
Why was it you?  
Why was it you, who decided to go into this reactor chamber?  
Why couldn't it have been one of the technicians?  
Okay...okay... I KNEW what you would tell me now....  
....if only you could...  
*The need of the many outweights the need of the one.*  
YES! I knew that.  
And maybe you're right.  
But what, when this one is me?  
I can't blame you.  
You never knew...  
...how I really felt.  
Behind all that quarreling, nitpicking. Behind the harsh, sometimes insulting words.  
Yes. I knew I've insulted you.  
More than once.  
And I saw it in your eyes, when I hurted you.  
Don't worry, my friend. You did the same to me.  
Because you felt the same?  
I will never know.  
You took the truth with you.  
Forever.

God, I'm not sure if I can do this!  
Kirk asked me to do it.  
I can't.  
I CAN'T!  
But I will do it.  
As a last duty.  
I have to do it.  
And I wish to do it.

So... now the shattered uniform is cut off your body.  
I'm glad, Scotty had found a possibility to lower the radiation in your body to a bearable amount.  
Otherwise I couldn't even stand here beside you.  
Otherwise I couldn't touch your skin.  
So cold.  
I knew how your skin had felt.  
So hot, so alive.  
Often enough I had to touch you when you had been injured.  
I knew, you never liked that.  
Why?  
Was it so unbearable for you?  
Was *beeing touched* such a burden for you?  
I would have loved to show, to teach you how wonderful a touch could feel.  
The touch of a lover.  
You never had known, hadn't you?  
Yes, my greenblodded hobgoblin.  
I love you.  
I have loved you.  
And I will love you until the end of my days.  
I caress your face, your lips.  
I can't touch your ears.  
They're burnt too much.

No.  
I'm not weeping.  
It's just a piece of dust in my eyes that causes the tears.

I love your smooth skin.  
You never knew how much I longed for touching you.  
You never knew how much I longed for a smile from you.  
Sometimes I envied Kirk.  
He was able to get those little smiles from you. Sometimes.  
Why was it for him and not for me?  
You never will tell me now.  
It doesn't matter any longer.  
There is one last favour I can do to please you.

Yes, you're right.  
It *is* illogical to pretend not to weep when I'm weeping in fact.  
God, I think I can hear you talking to me.  
Am I going insane?  
It doesn't matter.

I will wash your body.  
Wash the blood and the damaged skin away from your body.  
If only I could heal your body.  
I would do everything, even a raindance when it brings you back to life.  
Yes. I would do even that.  
And I knew how you would react, if you could see me doing it.  
I can see you, raising those eyebrow, inclining your head.  
Sometimes I thought, this was also a kind of smile.  
A vulcan smile?  
Yes. It was your way to smile at me. Your vulcan way.  
Now I'm sure.  
Why?  
Why I'm sure about that? Now?  
I don't know.  
It doesn't matter any longer.  
You will do it no more.

I clean your wounds.  
I knew they never will heal again.  
But I can't bear the imagination of you, drifiting in space with that cruel wounds.  
I'm going to seal them.  
There is still enough life-energy in your body to make it possible to use the dermal-regenerator.  
And I use it.

Now there are almost no wounds visible any more.  
You look like a sleeping beauty.  
Yes, you look beautyful to me, even now.  
Your skin always was pale...  
Yes, I knew. It was your green blood which causes that unfamiliar teint.  
Once I've seen you after a sunbath.  
Your skin was like gold then.  
I think you didn't even notice the change of your look.  
At those day I almost had told you how I feel.  
But I kept silent.  
Why?  
I don't know.  
Sometimes I'm a coward.  
I feared your mockery, perhaps your rejection.  
Then why I'm now sure you would have welcomed me?  
Now I know you wouldn't have laughed at me.  
Why do I know that? Now?  
TELL ME!

My time with you is running out.  
Scotty told me, there is still too much radiation in your body.  
I know it.  
I know how to interpret the data the biobed gives me.  
I know I risk my own health, but I have to stay as long as I can.  
Later, I can cure my own radiation disease.  
It doesn't matter.  
There is time enough for that.  
I still have time enough.  
Lonely time without you.

I have to hurry now.  
But why should I?  
There is no sense for me in going on without you.  
Now I think there is more sense if I stay with you, die with you right here.  
So we can be together out there in space.  
Am I already insane now?  
Perhaps I am.  
I can hear your voice, telling me how unlogical my plan is.  
Okay. I won't stay.  
I will go on living, alone.  
Keeping the memory of you in my mind.

There is one last thing I'm going to do for you:  
I'm going to clad you in one of your black meditation robes.  
You can't deny me that.  
I think this is what you want.  
Beeing burried wearing one of those black robes.  
I'm not sure, why I didn't pick the one laying neatly folded in front of your meditation lamp.  
Instead I opened your wardrobe and took one, laying behind your other private cloths.  
It is made from vulcan silk.  
Naturally black silk, as the terran one is white.  
God... it's the same texture as your hair.

I hear Kirk and four guards entering sickbay.  
They're here to carry you to the turpedotubes.  
I have to hurry now.

One last time touching the cold lips, the cold temple, the resting eyebrows.  
You never will lift them again.

Together we bed you for your last journey.  
I hide my tears, my grief.  
We don't look at each other while we carry you.  
No word, no whisper.

Many are here to honour you a last time.  
I hear Kirk's words.  
But I could only look at you.  
And I see you, as I have seen you during these years we had spent together.  
This is how I will remember you.  
Alive, logical and beautiful.

Now you are gone.  
Forever.  
Then why do I still hear your voice?  
Why can I still sense your presence, as if you're standing right beside me, ready for another quarrel?  
Tell me!

Why?

~~


End file.
